“Probably. But then, once Mrs. Gentle paid up, she would get the evidence back.”
“Maybe not.”
“Why?”
“It’s not like a blackmailer to let whoever it was she or he was blackmailing off the hook. Hamish, what on earth came over you? It’s not like you to be so taken in.”
“She was beautiful and genuinely seemed to be in distress,” said Hamish. “I thought I was doing a good thing. I thought, here I am still unmarried. She said she was a lesbian.”
“Oh, Hamish!”
“I planned to marry her and then we’d get a divorce later. I suppose she wasn’t even a lesbian. She could have been lying about that. But the real reason was that I knew if I told Daviot I was to be married, he would let me keep my police station. That really was what blinded me to her.”
“Lochdubh is all very well,” said Priscilla. “But it can get very claustrophobic in the winter.”
“Lochdubh has everything a body could want,” said Hamish defensively.
“Ah, well, that’s the difference between us.”
“I wish…,” began Hamish, and then hurriedly crammed another sandwich in his mouth.
Priscilla waited until he had finished eating. “Wish what?”
“Oh, that? I wish I could figure a way to get back into that nursery for another search.”
“You’ll think of something.”
“Are you going back to rehearse with Harold?”
“I’ll leave it. He’s got a rehearsal in the village hall tonight, and I’ll go to that. It’s quite fun, really.”
♦
Hamish collected his pets and went back to the police station through the ever-thickening mist.
He did a few chores around his croft, returned to the police station, and checked for messages. There were none.
He was just sitting having a cup of tea and wondering how soon he could get back into that nursery when the phone rang. It was Jimmy. He was exultant. “We’ve got the bastard!” he said. “His employees cracked and said they’d been paid to say he was there all the time. He was actually away for the time covering everything from the family reunion to the death of Irena and the murder of Mrs. Gentle.”
“And does he confess to murdering Mrs. Gentle?”
“Not a bit of it. We finally let him get a lawyer.”
“Jimmy, are you really sure he did it?”
“Oh, don’t start, Hamish. We’ve got our man.” When he had rung off, Hamish sat, thinking hard. He knew why he had proposed to Irena, but other people might think that they had been close, and that she’d perhaps confided something dangerous to him. If he spread that around, the murderer might come after him! But he would need to find a good excuse for sitting on any supposed evidence this long.
He decided to go to that rehearsal and spread the word that he did not think Mark Gentle was the killer – and something Irena had told him had made him suddenly realise it.
∨ Death of a Gentle Lady ∧
8
Let’s briefly put on manly readiness,
And meet i’ the hall together.
—William Shakespeare
Although he was glad that Anna had not called on him or even contacted him, Hamish, as he walked along to the village hall, was surprised that Jimmy had not rung to give him further news of Mark Gentle. He had tried to phone the inspector but his mobile was switched off and headquarters said he was busy.
The mist was still thick and the lights along the waterfront shone dimly, as if suspended in the air without any means of support.
From the loch, he could hear the gentle plash of the waves and the far-off chug-chug of a donkey engine. And yet he could not get the relaxed feeling he usually had when a case was over.
He decided to go ahead with what he had planned and to put it around the gathering tonight that Irena had told him something important. He knew the news would spread like wildfire all the way to Braikie.
The three witches were in rehearsal. “A drum, a drum! Macbeth doth come,” howled Mrs. Wellington as Hamish walked into the hall. A roar of laughter ensued.
“That’s enough!” cried Harold. “We’ll take a break.”
There was a surge towards tables set at the side of the hall which were laden with cakes and sandwiches, a tea urn and cups.
Priscilla came to join him. “This is great fun,” she said. “Everyone’s having a grand time although I gather there’s an arrest and Banquo, that’s Matthew, is over in Strathbane.”
“How do they get Jessie to say her lines without repeating the last words?” asked Hamish.
“Harold decided to ignore it. He’s very patient.”
Hamish raised his eyebrows in surprise. He would have thought Harold too arrogant to be patient about anything.
“I’m still not happy about this arrest,” said Hamish.
“Not happy about the arrest?” boomed Mrs. Wellington, who had overheard him.
“It’s because of something Irena told me.”
“Then you should tell your superior officers.”
“I’ll keep it to myself for a bit.”
“Did you hear that?” Nessie Currie asked her sister. “Thon Russian tart told Hamish something. I heard him telling Priscilla that he wasn’t happy about the arrest.”
They bustled off to spread the gossip.
When the break was over, Hamish collected more sandwiches and tea and retreated to a table at the back of the hall to watch as the rehearsal resumed.
They were all very amateur, including Priscilla, who delivered Lady Macbeth’s lines without passion but with a sort of icy disdain which was quite effective. And together it somehow worked. The mist had drifted into the hall, creating the right atmosphere for a Shakespearean tragedy.
When he went back to the police station, he could feel a light damp breeze beginning to fan his cheek. The dog and cat were out. They came and went by the large, expensive cat flap, a present from a grateful inspector Hamish had worked with on his last case. He knew they were perfectly capable of looking after themselves and that he should no longer plague Angela with them when he was going to be away for any length of time, but he could not stop worrying about them, and felt relieved when the flap banged and the pair finally strolled in.
He was about to go to bed when Jimmy rang. “Good news, Hamish. His alibi doesn’t stand up. He did threaten his employees with the sack if they didn’t back him up. Mind you, he’s screaming innocence. He says he came up before the family reunion to sweet-talk the old girl and make sure he was still in her will. But I can’t get out of him why he thought he needed an alibi.”
“If he gets a good defence lawyer,” said Hamish, “he might easily get off. The evidence is only circumstantial. Was Irena blackmailing him?”
“No, because, I suppose, she died before Mrs. Gentle.”
“Exactly, Jimmy. There’s no real leverage there for blackmail. A lot of folk threaten to kill people when they’re angry.”
“Don’t rain on my parade, Hamish. We’ve got him. Go to sleep.”
♦
The morning dawned sunny and balmy with only thin traces of the previous night’s mist. Hamish decided to go back up to the castle. The family would be preparing to leave. He wanted to take another look in that nursery. He fed Sonsie and Lugs and forced himself not to phone Angela and ask her to look after them.
When he arrived, they were all getting into their cars. “What is it now?” asked Andrew.
“I’m just going up to look at that nursery again.”
“We don’t want to wait around for you. Here’s the key. Lock up when you leave. Here’s my card. Post the key to me.”
Hamish went into the castle and climbed the stairs to the nursery. He carefully removed the tape from across the door, opened it, and went in.